Stopping by Sea on a Stormy Evening
(Thank you Robert Frost)
The rip tide tugs but here I stand
My feet confused by ebbing sand
To dark and deep I point my keel
A few short strides out from this strand
My little dog who wants to heel
Frets behind me, sad and leal
Before this dune the ocean craves
Surf hungers for the next warm meal
Sandpipers chase the lapping waves
My small friend shakes yet he stands brave
He yaps and growls his wet protest
Distracts me from the waters nave
Cold to the anguish I’ve confessed
The deep waits steaming, unimpressed
Froth of the lowly and the blest
Froth of the lowly and the blest
This Sad Day
Friend,
I did not know you as well as many in the long line
of sad faces saying their final goodbyes to you tonight
But I briefly held your fathers hand as
he quietly cried - a strong man with hard hands
Harder than mine
I hugged your mother and told her that
I was sorry for her loss
She seemed to want to shake my hand
but I hugged her anyway
She hugged me back
I'm not sure she understood what I said
Everyone else spoke to her in Spanish
Your wife looked tired as she extended her hand
I hugged her too and sensed her confusion and pain
I shook hands with your two young sons’
They looked like they might be tough guys
someday
Like you were
But not today
Their eyes were wide and looking for answers
Like when the sun briefly shines through a hole in the storm clouds
But the storm is not over
Then I stood beside your casket
and I looked at you for more than
a few moments thinking
You did this
I'm sure you didn't mean to do it
but you did do it
The slippery slope collects another daredevil
Another acrobat falls off the high-wire
Another racer learns that the wall does not forgive
One more day of binge drinking was enough
And your liver throws in the towel
Then all systems fail
And then you're gone
They'll put you in the ground tomorrow
And then I'll never see your family again
And if I do I will not recognize them
And they will not recognize me
But we all will remember you
And this sad day
Jeff Tillery won the middle school limerick writing competition in 1972 and can still quote that poem word for word. When he’s not writing contracts, grants and checks he attempts to write free verse in spite of an unrelenting gravitational pull to rhyme.
(Thank you Robert Frost)
The rip tide tugs but here I stand
My feet confused by ebbing sand
To dark and deep I point my keel
A few short strides out from this strand
My little dog who wants to heel
Frets behind me, sad and leal
Before this dune the ocean craves
Surf hungers for the next warm meal
Sandpipers chase the lapping waves
My small friend shakes yet he stands brave
He yaps and growls his wet protest
Distracts me from the waters nave
Cold to the anguish I’ve confessed
The deep waits steaming, unimpressed
Froth of the lowly and the blest
Froth of the lowly and the blest
This Sad Day
Friend,
I did not know you as well as many in the long line
of sad faces saying their final goodbyes to you tonight
But I briefly held your fathers hand as
he quietly cried - a strong man with hard hands
Harder than mine
I hugged your mother and told her that
I was sorry for her loss
She seemed to want to shake my hand
but I hugged her anyway
She hugged me back
I'm not sure she understood what I said
Everyone else spoke to her in Spanish
Your wife looked tired as she extended her hand
I hugged her too and sensed her confusion and pain
I shook hands with your two young sons’
They looked like they might be tough guys
someday
Like you were
But not today
Their eyes were wide and looking for answers
Like when the sun briefly shines through a hole in the storm clouds
But the storm is not over
Then I stood beside your casket
and I looked at you for more than
a few moments thinking
You did this
I'm sure you didn't mean to do it
but you did do it
The slippery slope collects another daredevil
Another acrobat falls off the high-wire
Another racer learns that the wall does not forgive
One more day of binge drinking was enough
And your liver throws in the towel
Then all systems fail
And then you're gone
They'll put you in the ground tomorrow
And then I'll never see your family again
And if I do I will not recognize them
And they will not recognize me
But we all will remember you
And this sad day
Jeff Tillery won the middle school limerick writing competition in 1972 and can still quote that poem word for word. When he’s not writing contracts, grants and checks he attempts to write free verse in spite of an unrelenting gravitational pull to rhyme.